Suffer Little Children Page 2

  ‘Is that why you sent for me?’ she asked. ‘Because our cousin is dying?’

  Colgú shook his head swiftly.

  ‘King Cathal instructed me to send for you before he succumbed to the fevers of plague. Now that he cannot instruct you, it falls to me to do so.’

  He reached across and took her by the elbow. ‘But first you must rest from your journey. There is time enough for this later. Come, I have ordered your old room to be prepared.’

  Fidelma tried to suppress her sigh of impatience.

  ‘You know me well enough, brother. You know that I will not rest while there is a mystery to be explained. You keep goading my imagination. Come, explain what this mystery is and then I will rest.’

  Colgú was about to speak when there came the sound of raised voices beyond the door. There was the noise of a scuffle and Colgú was moving towards the door to enquire what was happening when it burst open and Forbassach of Fearna stood framed in it. He was red-faced and breathing heavily with exertion.

  Behind him, his handsome face scowling in anger, was the young warrior, Cass.

  ‘Forgive me, my lord. I could not stop him.’

  Colgú stood facing the envoy of the king of Laigin with displeasure on his face.

  ‘What does this demonstration of bad manners mean, Forbassach? Surely you forget yourself?’

  Forbassach thrust out his chin. His arrogant and contemptuous manner did not desert him.

  ‘I need an answer to take back to Fianamail, the king of Laigin. Your king is on the verge on death, Colgú. Therefore it is up to you to answer the charges of Laigin.’

  Fidelma set her face into an immobile expression to disguise her frustration that she did not comprehend the meaning of this confrontation.

  Colgú had flushed with anger.

  ‘Cathal of Muman still lives, Forbassach. While he lives, his is the voice to answer your charge. Now, you have breached the hospitality of this court. As tánaiste I demand your withdrawal from this place. When the court of Cashel needs to communicate with you then you will be summoned to hear its voice.’

  Forbassach’s thin lips twisted into a condescending sneer.

  ‘I know that you merely seek to delay the answer, Colgú. As soon as I saw the arrival of your sister, Fidelma of Kildare, I realised that you will seek to delay and prevaricate. It will avail you nothing. Laigin still demands an answer. Laigin demands justice!’

  Colgú’s facial muscles worked in an effort to control his anger.

  ‘Fidelma, instruct me in law.’ He addressed his sister without taking his eyes from Forbassach. ‘This envoy from Laigin has, I believe, overstepped the bounds of sacred hospitality. He has intruded where he should not and has been insulting. May I order him to be removed physically from this court?’

  Fidelma glanced at the disdainful Brehon of Fearna.

  ‘Do you make an apology for an unwarranted intrusion into a private chamber, Forbassach?’ she asked. ‘And do you make an apology for your insulting manner to the heir-apparent of Cashel?’

  Forbassach’s chin jerked up, his scowl deepening.

  ‘Not I.’

  ‘Then you, as a Brehon, should know the law. You will be thrown out of this court.’

  Colgú glanced at the warrior called Cass and gave an imperceptible nod.

  The tall man laid a hand on Forbassach’s shoulder.

  The Laigin envoy twisted in the grip and his face reddened.

  ‘Fianamail of Laigin shall hear of this insult, Colgú. It will serve to compound your guilt when you are judged before the High King’s assembly at Tara!’

  The warrior had spun the Laigin envoy on his heel and propelled him through the doorway without any apparent display of undue force. Then, with an apologetic gesture to Colgú, he shut it behind them.

  Fidelma, turning to her brother, who had now relaxed from his stiff posture, showed her bewilderment.

  ‘I think that it is about time that you told me what is really happening. What is the mystery here?’ she demanded with quiet authority.

  Chapter Two

  Colgú looked as if he were about to delay once more but seeing the light in his young sister’s eyes he thought the better of it.

  ‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘But let us go where we may speak more freely and without the danger of any further interruptions. There are many ears attached to heads which may harbour ill-will to the kings of Muman.’

  Fidelma raised an eyebrow in surprise but made no further comment. She knew that her brother had never been one for exaggeration so she did not press him further. He would explain in his own time.

  She followed him from the room without speaking and through the stone-walled palace corridors with their rich tapestries and spectacular artifacts gathered over the centuries by the Eóganacht kings. Colgú led her through a great room which she recognised as the Tech Screptra, the scriptorium or library, of the palace, where, as a small girl, she had learnt to read and form her first letters. As well as the impressive illustrated vellum texts, the Tech Screptra held some of the ancient books of Muman. Among them were the ‘rods of the poets’, wands of aspen and hazel wood on which the ancient scribes had carved their sagas, poems and histories in Ogham, the ancient alphabet, which was still used in some parts of Muman. In that Tech Screptra the little girl’s imagination and thirst for knowledge had been awakened.

  Fidelma paused briefly, feeling a little overwhelmed by nostalgia, and smiling at her memories. Several brothers of the Faith were seated there poring over those same books by the light of smoking tallow candles.

  She realised that Colgú was waiting impatiently for her.

  ‘I see you still open the library to scholars of the church,’ she said approvingly as she joined him and they moved on. The great library of Cashel was the personal property of the kings of Muman.

  ‘It will not be otherwise while we are of the Faith,’ Colgú replied firmly.

  ‘Yet I have heard some stories that certain narrow-minded members of the Faith have been burning the ancient texts, the “rods of the poets”, on the grounds that they were written by idolatrous pagans. In Cashel, there are many such books. Do you still preserve them from such intolerance?’

  ‘Surely intolerance is incompatible with the Faith, little sister?’ Colgú observed wryly.

  ‘I would say so. Others might not. I am told that Colman of Cork has suggested that all pagan books should be destroyed. Yet I say that we have a duty to ensure that the treasures of our people are not incinerated and lost because of fashionable intolerance.’

  Colgú chuckled dryly.

  ‘The matter is academic anyway. Colmán of Cork has fled this kingdom for fear of the plague. His voice no longer counts.’

  Colgú continued to lead the way beyond the Tech Screptra and through the tiny family chapel. There were many stories handed down in Fidelma’s family of how the Blessed Patrick himself had arrived at Cashel and had proceeded to convert their ancestor, King Conall Corc, to the new Faith. One story told how he had used the meadow trefoil, the seamróg, to demonstrate the idea of the Holy Trinity to Conall. Not that it was a difficult concept to understand, for all the pagan gods of ancient Ireland were triune gods, being three personalities in the one god. Fidelma had always carried a sense of time and place with her.

  They passed beyond the chapel to the private chambers of the family and their immediate retinue, which were placed beyond the more generally accessible reception rooms.

  A chamber had been prepared for her, with a newly lit fire blazing in the hearth. It was the very room in which she had been born and where she had spent the early years of her life. It had hardly changed.

  Before the fire, a table had been set with food and wine.

  Colgú waved his sister to a chair.

  ‘Let us eat, and as we eat I will attempt to explain why King Cathal called you hither.’

  Fidelma did as he bid her. She realised that her journey had been long and uncomfortable and that she
was ravenous.

  ‘Are you sure our cousin is too ill to see me?’ she queried, still hesitating before the meal. ‘I do not fear the Yellow Plague. These last two years I have crossed its path in safety many times. And if I do succumb, well, then surely it will be God’s will.’

  Colgú shook his head despondently.

  ‘Cathal is no longer in a state to even recognise me. His physician says he may not last this night. In fact, the arrogant Forbassach of Laigin was right. It is now my duty to reply to his demands.’

  Fidelma compressed her lips as she realised what that meant.

  ‘If Cathal dies this night then you will be … ?’

  She paused, realising that it was improper to voice the thought while their elderly cousin was alive.

  Colgú, however, finished the sentence for her with a bitter laugh.

  ‘That I shall then be king of Muman? Yes, that is exactly what it means.’

  The Eóganacht kings, like all Irish kings and chieftains, were elected into office by the derbfhine of their families. On the death of a king, his family, that is the living descendants of the male line of a common great-grandfather, called the derbfhine, would gather in assembly and vote for one among them who would next take the throne. Sons did not necessarily, therefore, inherit from fathers. Failbe Fland, the father of Colgú and Fidelma, had been king in Cashel. He had died twenty-six years before, when Fidelma and Colgú were only a few years old. Even to be considered for any office in the land, a candidate had at least to be at the ‘age of choice’, which was fourteen years for a girl and seventeen years for a boy. Failbe Fland’s cousins had succeeded him in office until Cathal mac Cathail had been chosen as king of Muman three years before.

  It was the custom and law to also elect the heir-apparent, or the tánaiste, during a king’s lifetime. When Cathal had become king of Cashel, Fidelma’s brother, Colgú, had been chosen as his tánaiste.

  So now if Cathal died, Fidelma realised suddenly, her brother would be king of Muman, the biggest of the five kingdoms of Éireann.

  ‘It will be a heavy responsibility, brother,’ she said, reaching forward and laying a hand on his arm.

  He sighed and nodded slowly.

  ‘Yes; even in good times there would be many weighty responsibilities with this office. But these are bad times, Fidelma. There are many problems facing the kingdom. None more so than the problem that arose a few days ago and why, when he was not so ill, Cathal chose to send for you.’ He paused and shrugged. ‘Since you have been away from here, little sister, your reputation as a Brehon, an advocate of the courts and a solver of mysteries, has spread. We have heard how you have performed services for the High King, the King of Northumbria and even the Holy Father in Rome.’

  Fidelma made a deprecating gesture.

  ‘I was in those places at the time when my talent was needed,’ she replied. ‘Anyone with a logical mind could have resolved the problems. There was nothing more to those problems than that.’

  Colgú smiled quickly at her.

  ‘You were never given to conceit, my sister.’

  ‘Show me a conceited person and I will show you a mediocre talent. Which does not get us any nearer the reason that I was sent for. What does this have to do with Forbassach of Fearna?’

  ‘Let me tell you in my own way. King Cathal believed that you could resolve a mystery which has threatened the safety of the kingdom. Indeed, it threatens the peace of the five kingdoms of Éireann.’

  ‘What mystery?’ prompted Fidelma as she started to help herself to some of the food that had been prepared.

  ‘Have you heard of the Venerable Dacán?’

  Fidelma allowed an eyebrow to raise slightly as she recognised the name.

  ‘Who has not?’ she replied quickly. ‘He is already spoken of in some quarters as a saint. He is a teacher and theologian of no mean ability. Of course, his brother is the Abbot Noé of Fearna, the king of Laigin’s personal advisor and supposedly as saintly as his brother. Both brothers are widely respected and beloved of many. Stories are told of their wisdom and charity in many corners of the five kingdoms.’

  Colgú nodded his head slowly at Fidelma’s glowing recital. His face assumed a weary expression as though he did not like what he was hearing but expected no less.

  ‘You know, of course, that there has been some enmity recently between the kingdoms of Muman and Laigin?’

  ‘I have heard that since the old king, Fáelán, died of the plague a few months ago, the new king, Fianamail, has been examining ways of enhancing his prestige by trying to pick quarrels with Muman,’ she agreed.

  ‘And what better way to enhance his prestige than to find an excuse to demand the return of the petty kingdom of Osraige from Muman?’ Colgú asked bitterly.

  Fidelma formed her lips in a soundless whistle of astonishment.

  Osraige was a small kingdom which had long been a source of bad relationships between the two major kingdoms of Muman and Laigin. It stretched along the banks of the River Feoir from north to south. Hundreds of years before, when the kings of Muman held the High Kingship over all five kingdoms of Éireann, Osraige was under the tutelage of the kings of Laigin. When Edirsceál of Muman became High King, the men of Laigin contrived to assassinate him so that Nuada Necht of Laigin could assume the kingship. The king was murdered but the culprits discovered. Conaire Mór, the son of Edirsceál, eventually became High King and he and his Brehons met to agree what honour price the kingdom of Laigin should pay in compensation to Muman for their infamous act. It had been decided that the kingdom of Osraige should be forfeited by Laigin. Henceforth, Osraige would be part of the kingdom of Muman and its petty-kings would pay tribute to Cashel and not to Fearna, the capital of Laigin.

  Now and again the kings of Laigin would raise a protest before the High Kings, requesting the return of Osraige to them. But six centuries had passed since the days of Conaire Mór when Osraige had passed to Muman. Each protest had been rejected by the Great Assembly of the Brehons of Éireann, who met every three years at the royal palace of Tara. The punishment and compensation were confirmed as being just.

  Fidelma brought her gaze back to the worried face of her brother.

  ‘Surely even Fianamail, as young and inexperienced a king as he is, would not consider attempting to wrest Osraige back by force?’

  Her brother gave an affirmative gesture.

  ‘Not by force alone, Fidelma,’ he agreed. ‘Do you know something of the internal politics of Osraige?’

  Fidelma knew little of the kingdom and admitted as much.

  ‘For reasons too long and complicated to explain now, nearly two hundred years ago the native kings of Osraige were replaced by a family from the Corco Loígde in the south-west of the kingdom. There has been friction in Osraige ever since. The Corco Lofgde are not popular. Now and then, the Osraige have risen up to displace them. Less than a year ago, Illan, the last descendant of the native kings of Osraige with a legal claim to the kingship, was killed by the current king, Scandlán. Needless to say, Scandlán is of the Corco Loígde ruling family.’

  Colgú paused a moment to gather his thoughts before proceeding.

  ‘There is talk of an heir to Illan. Rumour has it that this heir, if he exists, would be happy to court Laigin if Laigin promised to help him dislodge the Corco Loígde as kings.’

  ‘It would still mean a war between Laigin and Muman with Laigin having to wrest Osraige back by force,’ Fidelma pointed out.

  Her brother leant forward with an unhappy expression on his features.

  ‘But what if some deed occurred, similar to the very deed that caused Osraige to be forfeited from Laigin in the first place?’

  Fidelma sat straighter-backed now, her muscles suddenly tensed. Colgú’s expression was grim.

  ‘You have confirmed that you know how the Venerable Dacan of Laigin was held in the eyes of many people. He was a saintly and revered man. And you have confirmed that you know how his brother, Noé of Fearna, stan
ds in similar regard within the sight of both his king, Fianamail, and the people of the five kingdoms.’

  Fidelma caught the use of the past tense but made no reply. She had, indeed, admitted that both men were highly respected throughout the land.

  ‘Two months ago,’ went on Colgú in a troubled voice, ‘the Venerable Dacán arrived at Cashel and sought the blessing of King Cathal to work within this kingdom. Dacán had heard of the work being done at the Blessed Fachtna’s abbey at Ros Ailithir and wanted to join the community there. Of course, King Cathal welcomed such a learned and esteemed scholar as Dacán to the kingdom.’

  ‘So Dacán set off to Ros Ailithir?’ intervened Fidelma when Colgú paused.

  ‘Eight days ago we heard news that the Venerable Dacán had been murdered in his cell at the abbey.’

  Fidelma realised that, even when death had become so common-place due to the ravages of the Yellow Plague, the death of the Venerable Dacán would have a resounding impact on all the five kingdoms, and more so especially due to the fact that the death was attributable to violence.

  ‘Are you telling me that you think the new king of Laigin, Fianamail, will use this death to demand the territory of Osraige be returned to his jurisdiction as a compensation?’

  Colgú’s shoulders hunched momentarily.

  ‘I not only think so, I know it to be so. It was only yesterday that Forbassach of Fearna arrived here as an envoy from Fianamail, the king of Laigin.’

  Fearna was the seat of the kings of Laigin as well as the site of Noé’s abbey.